


Stairway to Heaven

by IntoThatGoodNight



Series: Think Again [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoThatGoodNight/pseuds/IntoThatGoodNight
Summary: This is a brief Season 9 deviation where just after Sam and Dean's fight over Dean having betrayed him with Gadreel's possession, Sam gets careless on a hunt and is killed. He wakes on the road to his Heaven.





	Stairway to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This was made back in 2014, but I re-found and thought 'this isn't too horrible, I can repost it'.

When his shoes hit the dusty road on the silent pathway, Sam knew peace... comfort.

 

The ideal that at the end of the road, sanctuary and love waited. He had family, he had friends. People who meant more to him then the world he had left behind.

 

Placing one foot in front of the other, his old and worn out boots crunched against the gravel as he took up a steady gait towards the end. He wasn't sure how long it would take him to reach his destination, but he had nothing but time now.

 

There was no Zachariah to worry about. Michael was in the Cage, along with Lucifer. In fact, there were no angels left in Heaven.

 

That gave him a moment's pause, his boot halting a fraction of a second before it hit pavement again. Brows furrowing, he let his hazel gaze drift over the dark expanse of the surrounding area.

 

It was all the same... the pine trees that dotted the grassy landscape to either side, the dark sky with thousands of stars and planets swirling in the inky blackness. There was no wind, no houses, no cars. Just road. Miles and miles of road, in the solitude.

 

_There were no angels in Heaven._

 

His walk lead him down the center of the road, the soft swish of his jeans rubbing as he moved, one of the few noises awarded him.

 

_Metatron still ruled Heaven._

 

It wasn't his fault, he told himself sturdily, trying to brush the thought away. Instead, he replaced it with Ash, Ellen. Jo. Bobby, Rufus, and Pamela would be there too, of course. All of his friends, killed in the apocalypse or for it. Senseless deaths that were on his hands.

 

He should have shut the Gates of Hell before he left.

 

Could he have? Releasing a heavy sigh, Sam reached to brush several strands of hair out of his eyes irritably. His mind was drifting, he needed to stop thinking. But as his pace continued, his thoughts shifted; images came unbidden, like flashbacks.

 

_Castiel's expression when he took away Sam's illness._

 

He didn't blame Castiel for being unable to see that he had missed his soul when he pulled Sam's body from the Cage. The angel had tried, against all odds. He had forgiven him; Cas was always someone who tried to do the right thing, even if his views had occasionally been misguided. It helped little that he was often mislead.

 

But even though Castiel had broken his wall, the expressions and grief shown plainly on the angel's face every time he had seen what he did... and in the end, he had done everything he could to take the pain away, even when Sam wasn't aware of himself.

 

The aggravated sigh returned, but smoothed over quickly. He wasn't mad at the memory and the feelings it drudged up... he was grateful to Castiel. He knew that they had grown to be friends, whether or not it was said openly. Castiel would die for him too.

 

Kicking out at a loose rock near the broken yellow line in the middle of the road, the chunk of debris clicked its way along the ground before rolling off into the ditch. His focus on it waned though, in light of another flashback.

 

“ _Oh, I heard the rest. You fell in love with a unicorn. It was beautiful, then sad, then sadder. I laughed, I cried, I puked in my mouth a little._ _And honestly, I kind of get it.”_

 

Meg.

 

Gritting his teeth a bit, Sam set his jaw and continued forward, trying to will the images and sounds away. But he could no more run from his past now, then he could when he was alive.

 

“ _Really? Sam looked at her, brows furrowing slightly in confusion._

 

_She turns to him, an old expression on her face. Sam noted for that brief moment, that she knew what was about to happen, and accepted it._

 

“ _Go. Save your brother... and my unicorn.”_

 

_Not pausing to think further on that for the urgency to help Dean and Cas, Sam left quickly. The next time he would see Meg, it was as she stabbed Crowley, smiling at Sam and Dean as they made their escape at the cost of her life._

 

_Her ultimate sacrifice for them and Castiel, her moment of penance._

 

This time, Sam's pause was longer, more noticeable. He halted on the cold concrete, brows furrowed and fists clenching at his side.

 

How had he forgotten...?

 

It was by no means enough to wipe the slate clean... but in that pivotal moment, in fact for that entire day, what Meg had done for them had amounted to something that rivaled Gabriel's sacrifice. What roiled his stomach further, was the remembrance of her willing participation in taking down Dick Roman...

 

Sam had been blinded by his rage and hatred of her then.

 

Now he only felt a cold, empty guilt settle within. There was never time to sit and talk about it with his brother, or Castiel then... and by the time that there was, he had long-forgotten her. What she did for them. But still, the hatred had remained.

 

Why?

 

A gentle, invisible tug on his soul had him starting forward again. There was a soft light in the distance now... growing sluggishly as he continued along. He knew what it meant; it was the end. No more bartering for his life or his brother's, no more deals, tricks, lies, no more hatred. No more guilt.

 

_No more Dean._

 

His brother would fend for himself from now on, maybe with Castiel. Sam had long-since had enough of the world, and Dean's last stint with Gadreel had been the last straw. He felt a whole new anger take hold of him then; different from Meg or Lucifer, from Crowley, or even Becky.

 

His brother had betrayed him. He had taken away Sam's right to death and tricked him into being possessed by an angel, for his own selfish need to keep Sam beside him.

 

He couldn't stop the wince that stole over his lips, despite the still-fresh burn of disgust at the memory of it. He hated what Dean did... but he didn't hate his brother. He was just tired then... but not anymore. His death now was permanent; a hunt gone wrong at a moment of weakness.

 

He and Dean had parted ways, and Sam was not one to call Castiel needlessly.

 

At least the death had been quick.

 

This time when his mind wandered, he was too distracted to brace for it. What came pulled another wince and a pause... along with a gentle stream of sadness.

 

_"Look at me, Sam. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Sam! Listen to me. We're going to patch you up, okay? You'll be as good as new. I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm going to take care of you; I've got you, because that's my job, right? Watching after my pain in the ass little brother--"_

 

Sam's memory faded near the end, but he remembered the speech clearly, as if it only happened seconds ago. He remembered the flaring pain of the stab wound when Jake stabbed him... the time when Azazel had pit the psychics against one another.

 

What came after though, was a memory from his mind that he was unable to recall until now; a memory of Dean speaking to him while his soul still waited to be collected. Before Dean sold himself to bring Sam back.

 

_"You know, when we were little, you couldn't have been more than five, you'd just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom; Why do we always have to move around; Where'd Dad go.. when he'd take off for days at a time. I remember I begged you, quit askin' Sammy. Man, you don't wanna know._

 

_I just wanted you to be a kid. Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you, keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me. This was always my responsibility, you know. It's like, I had one job. I had one job. And I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that I'm sorry. I guess, that's what I do. I let down the people I love._

 

_I let Dad down, and now I guess I'm supposed to let you down too. How can I? Am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy... God.. What am I supposed to do?” Dean screamed painfully in the darkness. “What am I supposed to do?!"_

 

Choking back the tightness accumulating in his throat, Sam stubbornly pushed on. He knew they had always had serious co-dependency issues... even an Archangel had pointed them out. But that didn't stop the brief twinges of regret he was beginning to feel now. The loneliness.

 

_"I don’t know if it’s being a big brother or what, but to me, you’ve always been this snot-nosed kid that I’ve had to keep on the straight and narrow. I think we both know that’s not you anymore. I mean, hell, if you’re grown up enough to find faith in me, the least I can do is return the favor. So screw destiny right in the face. I say we take the fight to them and do it our way."_

 

Those were the words his brother had used, when he had questioned him about changing his mind about becoming Michael's vessel. The words still stung pleasantly; pride and love swelling when he remembered that Dean didn't give up on himself, on him, even when he knew his brother was drowning.

 

His thoughts were momentarily disrupted when his boot dragged along the gravel, snagging and nearly making him trip. He paused his walk again to steady himself before he toppled over, though he was sure that even if his face hit the ground, he would feel nothing.

 

This was the road to Heaven after all, there was nothing but Sam.

 

A flashback of Lucifer's possession hit him so hard he doubled over a little, struggling for a non-existent breath as his eyes widened. The feeling of cold, empty nothingness... of the endless expanse of the merciless Archangel... and then Dean...

 

Dean, bloodied and cowering beneath him. Dean, looking at him through a face beaten to a near-unrecognizable state, as if he still believed in Sam. As if he still loved him unconditionally.

 

Sam knew he did... just as he knew that saying 'yes' to Lucifer was his own choice.

 

Just as he knew leaping into the Pit was his own choice.

 

For Dean. For the world. For himself.

 

Realizing that the sensation of breathlessness was merely another illusion due to his non-existence, he slowly forced himself upright once more. A plaid sleeve came up too, brushing away the small string of saliva that had escaped him in his momentary panic.

 

He wanted the memories to end, he wanted to rest. But at the same time, he couldn't simply dismiss everything... it wasn't in his nature. He wasn't heartless, and though he was dead and could do nothing, it didn't feel right to just ignore these important events.

 

Another gentle tug, and he grudgingly began a slower walk towards the now-brilliant stream of light that cascaded over the tops of the trees and lit the empty highway.

 

Flashes of himself when he was soulless grazed over his consciousness. How he had let Dean become a vampire, manipulating his brother for the benefit of the hunt. How he had nearly killed many innocents, but had been restrained last-minute. How Dean had given himself to Death, in return for freeing Sam's soul.

 

The flashes drifted by, one after another, moving faster as each passed.

 

_Dean in Purgatory for a year._

 

He never looked for his brother. The stab of guilt from that was old, mixed with feelings of contentment for having a life while his brother was gone. A life that was destroyed both by the woman he had loved, and his choice to go back with Dean.

 

He sighed, a small plume of steam rising from his lips. The light was blinding now; Sam having to divert his eyes a bit despite no actual need to. The flashbacks were starting to fade now, the closer he drew to the light.

 

The road seemed to cut off not far from where he stood, but he let himself pause one last time.

 

This was nowhere near the end yet. Not for his memories, that he knew.

 

But did he want to see them? Did he want to remember any more before he walked through whatever consisted of the pearly white gates of Heaven, forever to look down on the world without a care?

 

To leave Dean alone until his brother eventually joined him, one way or another?

 

The idea made his stomach roil unpleasantly... knowing Dean, his brother would die painfully, perhaps slowly. The things that wanted them were not kind.

 

As Sam lingered in the area, one last memory flickered over his eyes like a soft wisp of smoke.

 

“ _You can barely do it_ with _me. You think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?”_

 

“ _Come on, man. That's not what I meant.”_

 

“ _No, it's exactly what you meant. You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can’t do that again. What happens when you’ve decided I can’t be trusted again? Who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel? Another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother…”_

 

“ _Hold on, hold on. Do you seriously think that? Because none of it, none of it is true. Listen man, I know we’ve had our disagreements. Hell, I know I’ve said some junk that sent you back on your heels. But Sammy, come on. I killed Benny to save you. I’m willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you. It has never been like that, ever. I need you to see that. I'm begging you...”_

 

_Sam grimaced, looking around. “... How do I stop?”_

 

“ _Just let it go.”_

 

“ _I can't. It's in me, Dean. You don't know what this feels like.”_

 

“ _Hey, listen, we'll figure it out, okay, just like we always do. Come on, let it go, okay. Let it go, little brother...”_

 

He remembered the hug, the feeling of his brother's warm body against his. He remembered every hug he had ever gotten from Dean... from their father. From their friends.

 

People that had encouraged and supported him in the times he felt he should have died, should be dead and gone.

 

Blinking at the sound of liquid dripping, his gaze darted around the area, before lifting his hands. His fingernails had dug bloody crescent-marks into his palms... when had he clenched his fists? Why was he able to bleed?

 

Taking a step back from the light, Sam frowned.

 

This wasn't right.

 

This isn't how it was supposed to end.

 

_There are no angels in Heaven._

 

Letting his hands relax at his sides, he gave one last, long look at the beautiful white light that promised comfort, safety, love. He wasn't done yet... it wasn't over.

 

Dean had done unforgivable things... but so had Sam.

 

Taking another step back, Sam turned away from the beckoning light and back towards the cold, dusty highway.

 

Since when did Winchesters ever take the easy way out?


End file.
